Deviation from the Average
by Javawolf
Summary: Bobby Goren had always known he was at risk of developing schizophrenia, but could it actually happen? And why now? When the pieces are falling apart and his work is sliding, Bobby goes to the one person he has left. Possible AlexBobbyship.
1. Chapter 1

Deviation from the Average

By Javawolf

* * *

Author's Note: I have little-to-no knowledge of the investigation process, so I'll claim poetic licence. I am however studying psychology, which is what drove me to write this fic. Please review, or I'll seriously stop posting.

Disclaimer: These characters belong to one Mr. Dick Wolf, the genius who created not one, but four hit television shows. I am merely showing my appreciation for his work by writing fanfiction. I make no money what-so-ever. Please, I beg you, don't sue me.

* * *

_**One Police Plaza**_

_**Major Case Squad**_

It had been 6 days since her partner had been suspended, and Alexandra Eames was just as miserable with his replacement, as she had known she would be when she first laid eyes on him. This replacement, Detective Leon Grim, was a self-loving, ass-kissing, boring fellow who never thought before taking action.

Just the previous day Grim had spoken freely of his dislike for one Detective Robert Goren, and had nearly had his right arm torn off by Eames. She had been almost hopeful that she too would be booted out of the building and suspended, except that her commander and leader, captain Deakins, hadn't seemed to care. In fact, he seemed almost pleased. It was a fellow officer who pulled her, thrashing and kicking, off of her new partner.

Now she sat at her desk positively seething, staring a hole into the piles of unfinished paperwork and recalling Goren's, for lack of any better term, episode. The scene played over and over inside her head without mercy.

She remembered the pain she'd seen in his eyes as she lay there bleeding on the floor of One Police Plaza, several people swarming around her putting pressure on her leg. The pain she felt had been excruciating, as though her entire lower torso has been set on fire. And yet Bobby... The way he looked at her in that moment. She knew he wanted to hold her until it was all better. Had Deakins not been holding him back, Alex felt certain he would have been there to comfort her. But he hadn't, and she was able to tell by that look in his eyes... It was killing him.

"_Bobby." She whispered to him as he sat at his desk with his head in his hands. "You're working to hard, you'll kill yourself like this. Damn it, Robert, look at me."_

_Goren obeyed with reluctance. Alex frowned at the sight of him. He was obviously running on fumes. He looked as though he hadn't eaten anything since they'd opened this case. He sported incredibly dark circles under his eyes and the most miserable expression she'd ever seen on him before. Making a fast decision, she grabbed his arm and lifted him up out of his chair._

"_Come, on. It's after eleven. You're going home to get some rest._" _Goren wrenched himself out of her grasp and sat again at his desk._

"_I don't need it." He told her sternly with his eyes fixed on the work in front of him. "You go home."_

"_Are you stupid? You need sleep."_

"_NEVER..." Goren spoke fiercely, refusing to look at her but raising a hand in warning. "Just..." He sighed and lowered his hand back to write something down in his notebook. "Please don't call me that."_

"_What? Call you what?"_

_Bobby looked up at his partner with quiet frustration. "Stupid."_

"_Fine." Alex shrugged. She called him names all the time, only in friendly sport. He knew that, and it had never seemed to bother him before now. He knew how much it aggravated her when he refused to call her by her first name, yet he did it anyway._

_Goren sat silently at his desk and Alex wondered if he was only pretending to read those files to piss her off. Deciding that it was exactly was he was doing, she scoffed._

"_You make me so furious, Bobby." With a huff Alex turned on her heel, walked over to the lockers and got her coat. Goren sat at his desk in silence, his frustration melting into guilt. Deciding he didn't want to come in the following morning and have to talk her down again, he quickly stood from his desk and went after her to apologize._

"_Eames!" He called pleadingly. "I'm sorry. Really." He put on his very best 'take-me-seriously' look. "You're right, I'll go home." _

_Alex stopped at the exit and looked back at him quizzically. She noticed immediately something was very wrong. Her partner had stopped dead in his tracks and was staring in horror at something past her. It was a look of child-like terror. He cowered from her._

"_Bobby?" She asked hesitantly after looking behind her to find a blank wall._

_It happened so fast, she didn't have time to move out of the way. Goren tore his gun from its holster and fired two shots at the wall. The noise seemed to surprise even him. Another officer tackled him, knocking his aim as the third and last shot went off, burying itself into Alex's leg. She cried out in pain and sunk to the floor, blood seeping through her pants._

_Deakins rushed out of his office in a panic, looking from Bobby to Alex in disbelief._

"_Call an ambulance! Now!" He shouted to the officer holding Goren to the ground. The instant the weight was off of him, Goren sat bolt upright and tried to reach his wounded partner, concern and worry easily readable in his expression. Deakins held him back, a grunt escaping his throat, as Detective Goren wasn't no light-weight._

"_What the hell is wrong with you?"_ _He screamed._ _"You could have killed her!" Unexpectedly, Bobby collapsed to the floor, shaking. _

"_I'm sorry..." Was all he could manage to get out between the sobs. _

_It was the last thing Alex saw before allowing herself to lose consciousness. _

Eames stared blankly at the chair across from her desk with a miserable sinking feeling. She couldn't even bring herself to concentrate even in the slightest on the mountain of paper work she had to do, describing the incident in her report. It simply wasn't something she felt she was the right person to be doing.

Something had to have been going on. Bobby was always a bit...odd. But he usually managed to hold himself together. She'd never seen him go over the edge like that.

"Making any progress at all?" Alex woke to a familiar drawling voice. Grim stood above her as she lay miserably with her head resting on her crossed arms. He smacked her in the back of the head.

"Wake up!"

Alex groaned. "Something up?" She said groggily. Grim frowned.

"Are you okay?"

_(The narrator would like to take this moment to make it absolutely clear that Grim's concern is not real. He is merely being nosey. Alex knows this, and now you do as well.)_

Alex sat up and stretched, suppressing a yawn. "I'm fine." She stood and looked towards Deakin's office, then at her watch.

"Goodnight, Grim." And she limped over to the lockers to collect her things.

"What, you're leaving?" Grim asked incredulously.

"Yes, I am. See you tomorrow."

* * *

_**Apartment of Detective Robert Goren**_

_**New York**_

Bobby sat alone in his apartment, surrounded by books and notes and files he'd taken home with him from his doctor's office the previous day. His depression only deepened with every page he read. He was 44 years old, living fairly comfortably in New York City, with a terrific job and great friends... Friends he'd been deprived all those years. Surely, this wouldn't happen to him now. It couldn't be happening now.

Tired and grumpy, Bobby threw the book he had been trying to read roughly back down on the coffee table. This was getting him nowhere. Letting out a frustrated sigh and raising his hands to his head to massage his temples, Bobby Goren had never felt more put-out. Or hopeless. For a long time, he'd always had Eames to talk to. Albeit, he rarely actually spoke, but still. In some way, he talked to her without saying anything, and she comforted him without being bothersome. They had a... well a partnership.

Bobby groaned softly, almost inaudibly. He had very well ended that partnership. He was a class A screw up. He done a damn fine job pushing her, everyone away. Deakin's had only suspended him, but hadn't specified how long until, or even if Goren would ever work another case. If he was lucky he might keep his desk, filing reports and signing things, Ex-Detective Robert Goren. It looked bad. Something deep down inside told him, after that last visit to the doctor, things are only bound to get worse...

* * *

_**Apartment of Detective Alexandra Eames**_

_**New York**_

Alex shrugged a robe on over her night gown and made herself comfortable on the couch while her popcorn popped in the microwave. She hit the power button on her DVD Player remote control, allowing the disk to load while she waited for her snack. She was going to watch a movie her dad had recommended. She didn't care much for her dad's kind of film. That is to say bloody, gory, alien movies involving a well built, Arnold-type hero sporting a very large gun. She had to admit, she was really in it for the popcorn. But it was a good way to relax, forget about her hectic week and enjoy a movie. Her mind wandered and she found herself gazing at her bandaged leg. It had only been a minor wound, her doctor had told her, and she could take the wrapping off in about another week. Still...

The phone rang, abruptly waking her from her stupor.

"Shit..." She mumbled as she reached to grab the phone off of its receiver. "Eames." She spat into the mouth piece.

"It's Deakins." Came a voice she recognized all too well.

"What is it? Grim get himself plowed again?" She said dryly, not hiding her dislike for her new partner. Deakins sighed loudly.

"No, Alex..." He said somberly. "I just got off the phone with Detective Goren's psychologist...I'm afraid I have some bad news."

* * *

_tbc_


	2. Chapter 2

Deviation from the Average

By Javawolf

* * *

Author's Note: So, I'm currently working on three stories at once, which I hope won't affect my work. If I start sliding, you may virtually slap me. Anyway, like I said with my others, I'm interested in doing a Q&A before each chapter, as I've seen it with other authors and it seems to bring a sense of closeness between readers and writers, you know? I love feeling that closeness with the writers I'm currently stalking around FF.N, and I hope to feel it with my readers. Am I making any sense?

Stocktonwood: Glad to have you! Keep reading!

Gerfan: Hullo, again! I've hooked you? Mwa ha ha ha! ahem Thanks! )

TriStateCopFan: blush I figured as much...they're cops after all. Shooting your partner is likely to get you in deep puppy-doo. I'm not very well educated in that area, but I imagined something like that would be strongly reprimanded. Ah well...in my world, reality is bent out of recognition. Thanks for letting me know, though! As for the psychological, I don't want to lecture. It is fascinating though! Schizophrenia is, in fact, a simple term for a whole line of mental disorders. The disease would be better described as 'the schizophrenias.' The symptoms are varied and ever-changing. While it's true that Bobby's case is extremely rare, I believe I can back it up. Eventually, I will explain in detail what's happening to him. You don't want to hear me rant, I won't shut up! I love psychology. I am however, only beginning my study, and can't possibly be right about everything. Don't take my word for it! P

ElizaJane: I'm with you there, I love angst. That much feeling in so few words... simply wonderful. And, as requested, the next chapter. D

Scifi-warper: Oh goodness, you sound so sad! I'm sorry! I'm afraid it is true... I hope you're enjoying it anyway.

Bammil: Hey! Yes, poor, poor Bobby... Perhaps it will all turn out in the end. Then again–

Adina-Anne: Wow! ADINA-ANNE! I love your stories! 'Everybody gets what they want.' Absolutely wonderful, thank you for writing it. You reviewed my story! _My_ story! I'm so giggly and happy. Adina-Anne reviewed my story! I'm flattered. giggle, giggle Thank you so much!

FrostySnake: Love the name, BTW. I'm so glad you like it! With so many nice reviews, of course I have to continue! I think I'd have to be really miserable to stop, and as it is, I'm thrilled! Thank you and please keep reading.

* * *

_**One Police Plaza**_

_**Major Case Squad**_

Grim sat alone, making himself comfortable in Goren's previously empty chair. To be honest, he didn't know what he was still doing there. They had no cases, his partner had left already, and the only work he could think of doing was Eames' paperwork. And as much as he would _love_ to do paperwork, he just didn't see what was in it for him to spend all night alone on the eleventh floor.

He thought about Eames' old partner...what was his name–Ronald. Ah well, whatever. He was better known as the legendary Goren. Grim smirked to himself. He'd heard the rumors. Guy was a freak. Always doing that twitchy-bendy act and shoving your own emotions down your throat. He shouldn't be a cop, he belonged in a loony-bin.

Grim shook his head. It wasn't enough that he was constantly getting that feeling from people, all of them comparing him to Goren. Feeling out his weaknesses, why he couldn't do the job; why he didn't belong here. But on top of that, they hadn't even been handed a case since that weirdo left. Not one.

Deakons had claimed that he needed Eames to take it easy for a while, no late nights, no rough cases. It seemed to translate into, 'That moron can't handle it, and Alex shouldn't be overworking herself, so give 'em both a break.' It was enough to make his blood boil, but Grim put on the happy grin, the abiding posture. He was well behaved. Yet he couldn't help but think, he may just do anything to be treated with a little respect around here. Anything.

Grim glanced at his watch. It had only been a few hours since Eames had gone home. But if she got to go home, why shouldn't he? With a sigh he rose from the chair and walk the short distance to Deakins' office. Quickly slicking back his dark hair and fixing his tie, he knocked softly on the door. Getting no answer he opened it a crack and peaked in to see Deakins absorbed in a telephone conversation.

"Ahem."

Deakins looked up, his first expression being one of annoyance, but clearly masking a certain sadness, or anxiety. Grim saw it clear as day, he was a Detective after all, but chose to ignore it for the time being.

"Hold on, Eames. What?" Deakins asked in a harsh tone after putting the mouth-piece of the phone to rest on his shoulder.

"I'm packin' up, chief." Grim said with mock cheerfulness, making a mental note to find out what Deakins would be talking to Eames about.

"Fine. Try to get here on time tomorrow, Grim."

Grim kept a smile on his face until he'd closed the door securely behind him. Making his way down the hall, he scowled. No respect. No respect at all.

"Sorry, Eames. Grim had to stick his nose in my office." Deakins listened for a reply. When none came, he asked hesitantly; "Alex, you okay?"

"Yeah, I just–" Deakins could hear her sniffling, as though she were trying to hold back tears. "Are you sure?" She asked in a desperate tone. "How can they be sure?"

"Alex–"

"No!" She screamed. "It's not true, Jim, it's not and you know it!"

"Sir." Deakins replied sternly. "You don't call me by my first name."

"Fine! _Sir_." A loud, high pitched beeping came through the receiver.

"What was that noise?" Deakins asked.

"Oh." Alex sniffed. "My popcorn. I was getting ready to watch a movie."

"You sit down and watch that movie, Alex. We'll talk more in the morning."

"Yes, sir." Eames replied. Deakins could read her tone as an apology for her outburst and he excepted it.

"You get some rest."

"I will."

* * *

_**Apartment of Detective Alexandra Eames**_

_**New York City**_

Alex hung up the phone, and wiped a tear away with the sleeve of her bathrobe. Resting suddenly didn't seem so appealing to her anymore. She needed to call him; make sure he was all right. With a shaking hand she reached for the phone, but stopped mid-action. What could she possibly say to him? She couldn't begin to imagine what he was going through.

_But maybe he doesn't know yet_, she thought. _What if he doesn't know? What am I going to tell him? _The thought poked and prodded at her, until she pulled her hand back and set it in her lap. Convinced she couldn't possibly improve matters by calling him, Alex was able to sit in silence for another minute before she picked up the phone and punched in a memorized number.

* * *

_**Apartment of Detective Robert Goren**_

_**New York City**_

Holding his head miserably in his hands, Bobby groaned loudly at the screeching telephone. After the sixth ring, he decided it wasn't going to let him wallow in peace, and with reluctance he slowly ambled to the phone. Reaching down behind the small table it sat on, Bobby pulled the wire out of the wall, leaving Alex with an automated voice telling her that her number wasn't correct.

Satisfied, he sank back into the couch, holding a pillow over his head in a feeble attempt to block out reality. He already knew what Alex had wanted to tell him, and he wasn't ready to face the fact that he had just lost his job.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

Deviation from the Average

By Javawolf

* * *

Author's Note: I was lazy all week. I procrastinated until this past Saturday, when I couldn't sleep. I apologize if this chapter doesn't stand up to the last few, but please keep in mind, that it was written in the wee hours of the morning.

FrostySnake: No worries, nothing is wrong with you. I love it too. I guess that's why I'm having so much fun writing this! And, I still like your name, accidental or not. :)

Scifi-warper: I suppose if I'm making you cry I must be doing something right, but I hate to make you so sad. Chin up. They'll pull through. They always do!

Adina-Anne: Oh, sorry I freaked you out... I didn't mean to. But I really do like your stories. I like them a lot! Anyway, I'm glad you're still enjoying the story.

TriStateCopFan: Heh, heh! I don't guess Grim's very popular, eh? Oh, you're right! It did sound awfully... military. Thanks for pointing that out. And, naturally, there's plenty more angst for everybody.

* * *

_**Apartment of Detective Robert Goren**_

_**New York City**_

"_You..."_

It wasn't the first time he'd heard the voice. It had been a while yet, but he'd been able to ignore it many of the previous times. As he stood in the small apartment kitchen, preparing the sorry excuse for a meal that sat on the stove, he shook his head violently to dislodge the creeping, persistent voice. It always said the same things. Not generally word for word, but in the same ball park. As Bobby scraped his burnt Kraft maccaroni and cheese into a bowl, the voice verbally pummeled him. He did his best to ignore it, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. He hadn't heard words like these in so many years...

"_...working my ass off all day, and come home to this sty ... should'a let you're mama beat you to death ... no good, whiney, smart ass of a boy ... you can't ignore me forever ... Look at me, damn it!"_

It took every ounce of will power Goren possessed to keep from collapsing a fit of tears, but he managed to suppress even the slightest flinch. He couldn't let himself be seen like that. Especially not by _him_, he who always seemed to expect so much more of Bobby.

He stood at the far end of the rectangular table, aligned with the wall. He wore that same white and red checkered shirt he had always worn at home ... Bobby could smell the beer. The scowl that was all too familiar, the hand that he held in clenched fists, waving newspapers, shouting curses–it was him.

Calculating the possibilities as he sat down, Bobby refrained from speaking to the man before him and mercilessly stabbed at his maccaroni. He closed his eyes against the sound, but that didn't make any sense... He could still hear the curses and the screaming. Oh God, someone was screaming! Instinctively he reached for his weapon, only to find to his dismay that of course, he no longer possessed any weapon.

He was standing now, when did that happen? Glancing around the room for a clue as to what had happened his gaze stopped upon the shattered bowl and crusty maccaroni that sprinkled the floor. In a rush the memory caught up with him. He'd been the one to scream, and he'd thrown his food across the table at the wall.

"_Now look what you did, you little brat."_

Cupping his hands over his ears in helplessness, Bobby struggled against the desire to argue. But if he argued, or gave any attention at all, he knew he would have at that point completely lost his mind. His mind was something she saw as beautiful. His mind was all that kept the rest of him together.

With his hands still pressed tightly over his ears he sank to the floor, sobbing, fully aware of what was happening to him. With every tear his sanity slipped further away. It was the worst torture he'd ever had to endure, and yet still, he refused to give notice to the voice or its embodiment. He wasn't crazy, and this wasn't real. After all, how could any of this be real when his father was dead?

* * *

_**Office of ADA Ron Carver**_

"This is a very serious matter?" The Assistant D.A. looked up from his very own mountain of paperwork, (which in fact was simply a favor to Detective Eames, given her current condition,) To glare at Captain Deakins as he took a seat before Carver's desk.

"...of the most importance." Deakins managed, unsure of how to proceed.

"Pray tell." Carver said smoothly, setting his hands, neatly clasped, on his desk.

"You recall the incident with Detective Goren?" Deakins asked.

"Naturally."

"Well, I sent him to see counseling. I received a phone call last night concerning his behavior."

Carver sat in patient waiting while Caption Deakins folded his hands in his lap, his eyes falling to the floor. Nothing could prepare the ADA for this, and for that reason, Deakins felt he shouldn't be the one to tell him. He hadn't felt this more anxiety sense the complications in Kathy's labor during the birth of their youngest child. Goren was like a son to him, and he was in a bad way.

"James?" Carver asked hesitantly, turning his head slightly. Deakins nodded.

"Nothing can be diagnosed yet, they–they need him to come back in for an evaluation but..."

"Something is wrong?" Carver arched an eyebrow.

Making a fast decision to be blunt and get it over with, as he was not a very patient man, Captain Deakins sighed loudly.

"Detective Goren has a family history of mental illness. Particularly schizophrenia."

Carver leaned back slowly into his leather chair, unclasping his hands and holding them limply at his sides.

"Dear God..."

* * *

Alex pressed her cell phone tightly to her ear as she gripped the wheel; trying to drive, drink her coffee, finish getting dressed and brushing her hair, and get a hold of Bobby--simultaneously. She had been calling since the night before, getting the same mechanic voice every time. Now trying his cell phone, as the idea had only just occurred to her, she was getting his voice mail and quickly becoming frustrated.

She'd gotten up early, showered and was planning to visit him before going to work. Unsure of the legality of the current plan, as she was fairly certain he wasn't to be anywhere near her for the time being, she was making a rather pathetic attempt at incognito. Applying the last touch of mascara over her lashes, Alex pulled on a baseball cap and sunglasses, fighting the urge to laugh at her self in her rearview mirror.

_You've reached Detective Goren's cell phone. I'm...well-obviously not here right now, I'm sorry I missed you. Leave any information I might need to get back to you, and I'll do just that at the soonest possible interval. Thanks._

With a low growl escaping her throat, Alex tossed her own cell phone onto the passenger seat and swore loudly. Why was he ignoring her? Something was wrong, either he was feeling so isolated he wouldn't even speak to her–his best friend, or he was in a bind. In his current condition he shouldn't even have been sent home, certainly not alone. Suddenly very worried, Alex pushed the gas as far as she dared... And succeeded in smearing lipstick on her chin.

* * *

A/N: Oh, BTW. I have been to New York only once in my life and even that was for a short 3 hours. My geography concerning the city is so far off it's mildly funny. I don't even really pay attention when I'm watching CI, as you can tell in the above chapter. Please forgive me!

Everyone enjoy the season premiere!


	4. Chapter 4

Deviation from the Average

By Javawolf

* * *

Author's Note: Tah-da! Got it up on time this week. (Applause, applause.) I had to cut it a little shorter than I would like, to get it up, but there will be another chapter very soon. I have other stories to keep up with, and I just can't spend a whole lot of time on each...it's annoying actually.

**My Question: Does Bobby's older brother have a name? In BluePanther's "Deliverance" he was named Richard, but is that actually his name according to Canon? I haven't done a very good job following the story since it started, I only just got cable back.**

TriStateCopFan: What do you mean, "...end of the show for VDO?" He not _leaving_, is he? Oh m-gosh! No! I thought he was going to be on every other week or so. Goren is the best character, Vincent can't just _leave_! ...I'm going to cry... Anyway, I'm happy to hear you're still enjoying the story. I love your reviews.

Adina-Anne: Carver? Oh. Well, thank you. I always thought Bobby was a more difficult character, you know? I suppose because he's so...er... Well, you know. Odd. But I can see how Carver would be hard. He's so mysterious! Well, let me know what you think of this next chapter!

* * *

_**One Police Plaza**_

_**Major Case Squad**_

Grim examined himself in the mirror of the men's restroom, slicking back his hair and checking his teeth. He was a lean man with very chiseled features. He had dark brown, wavy hair that he held back behind his ears, though the shorter cut bangs often fell in his face in light wisps. His hazel eyes seemed to glimmer at him through the glass at which he was staring so attentively. He was often teased by the other men around floor eleven about his obsession with appearance, but he told himself that was simply because they were jealous. Maybe that line of thinking was a little bit school-yard, but it was still most certainly true.

Today was the day. He'd woken up that morning, taken a shower and blow-dried his hair, performed his morning hygiene tasks, and grabbed a Frappuccino at Starbucks–all of this knowing that today was the day he would ask Detective Eames to dinner. His gut told him she would say yes, and his gut was rarely ever wrong.

Giving his reflection a flashy smile, Grim moved his attention from facial appearance to attire. Did his socks match? Did he make sure to put on the outfit he'd laid out the night before or did he accidently dress in his dirty clothes again? He fixed the collar of his pale pink button-down shirt and adjusted his coat so that it fell off his shoulders just at the crease. He looked good. He looked very good and he knew it.

Everyone in the office had learned since his arrival: looks can be deceiving.

* * *

Deakins practically jogged back into his office, feeling alive and awake and ready for the day. As soon as he'd shut the door behind him he fell against it and closed his eyes. He honestly didn't think himself ready to be ready. He felt like he should be miserable and exhausted, but he was alert and focused on the day that lay ahead of him. He wasn't entirely certain what to make of it.

He made toward his desk and was about to sit down when he saw something that made him stand straight back up again, looking out his office window to the floor in shock. Eames had come in for work, looking disheveled and sleepy. But it wasn't her appearance that sent Deakins bolting out of his office, very nearly taking the door of its hinges in his effort to open it as quickly as possible.

It was who she was with.

Bobby followed his partner willingly, but he refused to make eye contact with anyone as they made their way to the eleventh floor. Advancing on the elevator, they'd had several people approach them with questions. Bobby simply lowered his gaze and focused on the tile floor, watching his feet move him slowly closer to the elevator, and eventually into the safety of said elevator, (though he'd much rather had taken the stairs were he given a choice. He hated elevators.)

Walking across the floor he knew so well, Goren spotted several people staring at him, but his attention fell specifically on one person. He had just emerged from the restroom and seemed rooted to the spot. He wasn't simply staring, this man was gawking at him. It took effort, but Bobby managed to tear his eyes away, leaving the man behind as he and Eames approached Deakin's office.

Without warning, Deakins swung open his door and flew out at them, embracing Goren in a tight hug as though they hadn't seen each other in decades. Blinking dumbly, Goren patted him on the back.

"Hello, Captain..." Bobby said softly as they parted, rubbing his hands up and down his shirt awkwardly.

Deakins stepped back from him and looked him up and down.

"You look–awful..." He said in all honesty. And it was true.

Goren hadn't shaved and looked more stubbly than usual, his hair was curled and sticking up everywhere, and his shirt was buttoned out of sequence so that he had an extra button at the collar and an extra hole at the bottom. He being one to always dress well, with his tie perfect and his jacket buttoned precisely, this was unusual.

He didn't seem to have a response to Deakins' statement, and instead raised a hand to do something about his hair. His partner and captain watched him wrestle with it for a moment before giving up completely and letting his arms fall to his side.

"Goren, I–I don't know what–"

"I haven't told him. Have you?" Eames asked suddenly, looking pointedly at Deakins. Goren looked casually from one to the other and shrugged at their returning stares. "Maybe, we should speak somewhere more private." Eames finished.

"Yes, come in here." Deakins offered as he led to two of them into his office. Silently, the two detectives seated themselves before Deakins' desk and he took his own chair. They spent a good several seconds staring awkwardly at each other.

Deakins cleared his throat. "So, Goren. How are you feeling?"

Bobby shrugged in reply, unsure if he really felt like talking about recent events. Alex watched him for a moment before speaking up.

"This morning, I went to his apartment–"

"Eames..." Bobby pleaded.

"And I found him..." She glanced sideways at Deakins, and then at her hands. "...crying–on the floor. He wouldn't tell me what had happened. I saw broken dishes at the far end of the room, and–" Alex went on in detail, describing to Deakins the entire apartment as she had seen it at the point the woman stopped calling the shots and the detective took over the room.

Goren crossed his legs in his chair as placed his elbow on his armrest, bringing his hand to rest under his chin. He pretended not to be listening, but he was–and he was putting things together with every word. _If she didn't see him...he was never there,_ he thought. Apparently he had thought a little too loudly, as know both his friends were giving him quizzical looks.

"Who wasn't there?" "Who didn't I see?" Alex and Deakins asked together. Bobby glanced from one to the other, and then shifted position nervously.

"No one...just–just thinking out loud." He stated simply.

"No, you weren't." Alex accused. "I know that look."

"Goren, you have to let us help you."

"I don't need help." He said, getting agitated now. "I'm fine, I just need some rest."

"Bobby..." Alex said softly as she reached out and took his hand in hers. He seemed surprised at the gesture but tightened his grip around her hand none the less, and looked at her with that look that she knew to mean, 'Thanks.'

"I–thought I saw someone. Some–someone I know. In my apartment."

"Who?" Deakins asked, dwelling for moment on Eames' _very_ friendly gesture before turning to Goren for an answer. Goren, who seemed to have noticed him staring, quickly took his hand back and placed it firmly in his lap.

"That isn't important." He said, giving his captain direct eye contact.

"Goren..."

"Look, just tell me this much. Have I..." He trailed off, swatting at something by his right ear. And then again. He had a look of annoyance on his face that turned slowly to frustration and then fear. He stopped swatting and looked from Deakins to Alex, back and forth.

"You... you don't hear that?" He asked desperately. The two exchanged worried looks before shaking their heads.

"Goren... I–I have to suggest to you that you let Detective Eames drive you to a psychiatric hospital, where we can have someone look into–"

"That's not...I'm not crazy!" He didn't look or sound angry. In fact, he looked very much as though he were going to cry. "I don't have so much as a cold, I–" He paused and bit his lip. Alex feared he _would_ cry, his emotional state was on the brink. "I don't want to go... go crazy..." He murmured.

"You're not going to go crazy." Deakins soothed. "We just need to see if there's anything we can do to help."

"By 'we' you mean a handful of strangers in sterilized, white suits who're going to poke and prod at me with high tech gadgets and shove pills down my throat."

Deakins sighed and leaned back into his chair helplessly, giving Eames a pleading look. She, in return, shrugged and turned to face the door as two more people entered the room. ADA Carver and Grim. Carver looked surprised to see Goren in the room, but never the less kept a cool exterior. Grim looked mortified.

"Oh, my apologies Detectives–Captain. I didn't realize you were in...conference."

"You're always welcome, Ron. We were just talking. Have a seat."

With a nod, he obliged, taking a chair to Goren's left. Grim stood by the door and continued to eye Goren with a mixture of fear and loathing. With a signal from Deakins, he left the room in a huff. And so the talk began.

* * *

He had intended to get Eames alone that afternoon... Grim felt himself tremble as he clenched his fists together. Goren had been back for 15 minutes and already had everyone else's attention. He took everything he wanted, and he didn't even know what he had.

He would pay for this.

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

Deviation from the Average

By Javawolf

* * *

Author's Note: "I'm not quite dead." Ah, I'm so terribly and sincerely sorry that I took so dreadfully long to update. I'm struggling with the college application process and free moments are scarce. That, and yours truly, genius that she is, has started _another_ story, that will take another chunk of time out of my savings. All I can do is thank you all from the bottom of my heart for being so patient.

And now for some plot, eh?

* * *

"This is very serious, Detective. I have to agree with the Captain, you need at the very least, a simple, psychological evaluation. Perhaps one of our own psychiatrists could assist us in this situation."

Still sitting in Deakin's office, twenty minutes after Grim had stormed out of the building in a huff, the fantastic four sat absorbed in conversation. The topic: _Has Goren gone off his rocker?_ And: _If so, what do we do about it? _A most awkward situation for Bobby to be in, you can imagine.

"Oh, not one of ours..." Deakins replied to Carver's suggestion. "They cower before the Great Detective Goren." He shifted in his leather chair as he chuckled softly to himself. "I don't think they like having the tables turned on them, it makes them nervous for someone to know more about them than they do."

"Same goes for pretty much everyone." Alex murmured. Deakins shrugged and all three of them turned their gazes on Bobby, who looked from one to another in sequence.

"Sorry." He mumbled pathetically, lowering his gaze to the gray carpet.

"Oh, Bobby, we're not accusing you!" Alex couldn't help but laugh. "You're good at what you do and we're all lucky to have you. I'm just saying, you can be very–" She trailed off, suddenly looking distressed.

"Very what?" Bobby urged her.

"Nothing. Forget it." Alex snapped.

Sensing that this was the perfect time for a subject change, Deakins cleared his throat.

"The point, Goren, being that you're obviously distressed, and there are people who can assist you. It makes absolutely no sense to ignore that you need help, simply on pride." Despite the tender subject, Deakins laughed. "When I say 'help,' I don't mean to say 'You're a wacko, you need help.'"

"I know what you meant." Bobby grumbled. "I'm choosing to ignore you."

"Oh, that's mature." Alex accused, giving Bobby a pointed look. He merely glared at her through his fingers, as he'd just buried his head in his hands. "Come on, well just go to the hospital, and get an ice cream on the way." Alex insisted, rising from her chair with something resembling a smile. Bobby let his breath out in a rush.

"I'm not a child." He snapped. Alex lowered herself slowly back into her chair, hurt easily readable on her face. Her partner, for quite possibly the only time in his career, didn't notice at all; mumbling nonsense things such as, "... Ice cream... Damn bagpipes... Not a baby..."

It was at this moment that Deakins made a fast decision to take matters into his own hands.

"Robert Goren," He said in a stern voice that caused Bobby to jump slightly in his chair, and then stand in salute. Deakins rolled his eyes, but continued speaking. "You are, as of right now, released from your duties as Detective on my floor." Goren simply stared at him with a vacant look, so Deakins tried again.

"You're fired, Goren."

That caused a reaction. As Deakins had expected, Bobby blinked in surprise and fell back into his chair.

Carver watched with a look of intrigued horror.

_Fired? _He _fired_ him? He thought to himself. Deakins wore on his face a smug look of triumph, that didn't go unnoticed by the Assistant District Attorney. After a short minute spent watching Bobby try to figure out what just happened, Deakins spoke again.

"Think of it as being grounded." He almost smiled, Carver couldn't help but notice. The realization dawned on him that Deakins was playing the father figure in order to get Goren psychological help. It was as brilliant as it was funny, and even the ADA found himself suppressing a snicker. Poor Alex was still wearing a blank look of disbelief.

"Goren," Deakins continued. "All you have to do for me to re-instate you is go with Detective Eames," Alex blinked. "And have yourself checked out." He finished.

Bobby looked at first like he wanted to argue, but after his gaze settled on something invisible on the opposite side of the room he was quick to agree.

"Fine, fine." He stammered, tearing his eyes away from the hallucination. He turned to Alex. "You mentioned something involving ice cream?"

* * *

"Alexandra Eames?"

"Yes. I'm her–that's she–er–I'm me... Alex Eames." She stammered, hardly able to speak through her numb lips. Bobby had been back there with the doctor for over an hour and a half, and poor Alex had had little to do besides worry.

"I'm Dr. Ramonoff." The man said offering his hand in greeting. "You brought Robert in this morning?"

"Yes, yes! What's wrong with him?" Alex snapped, ignoring Dr. Ramonoff's friendly gesture and staring up at him with a pleading look. The doctor sighed.

"I don't know." He admitted with a hopeless shrug. Alex blinked.

"You don't–what exactly the hell does that mean? You don't _know?_ Why don't you know?"

"Please, there are a number of things you need to... Perhaps this is a matter that should be addressed in my office, rather than out here." He motioned for Alex to look around the waiting room, and she did, spotting many gazes that flirted guiltily away.

Alexstiffly followed Dr. Ramonoff to his office, where she was instructed to sit in a chair in front of his desk. The office was large and bleak, and Alex silently wondered why doctors always had boring offices. Dr. Ramonoff sat down at his desk and studied the woman before him.

"Spill already." Alex spat. The doctor was taken aback.

"Oh... Very well. As you may know, Robert has a pre-deposition for schizophrenia."

"Yes, his mom."

"Right. But this sudden onset–it's not characteristic of most schizophrenic patients. While his symptoms fit almost perfectly with the profile of the disorganized schizophrenic, the rate at which his symptoms are worsening is–extremely rare."

"What does that mean?" Alex narrowed her eyes slightly.

"Well, we don't know yet. It could mean a number of things. We're suspecting this is either an acute case; prone to sudden onset, or one of many similar psychological disorders."

"Like what?" Alex interrupted. "Please, just tell me."

"Well, possible conditions include schizophreniform disorder, schizoaffective disorder, and brief psychotic disorder. Right now, all are as likely as the next."

"What is your personal opinion?" Alex begged. Dr. Ramonoff smiled gently.

"I believe he may be suffering from a rare form of schizophrenia. An acute case of disorganized, type I, schizophrenia. In short, a sudden psychotic break induced by an overwhelming stressor. The disorder is episodic in nature and could cause psychological distress at any time. Symptoms include bizarre visual and auditory hallucinations, disorganization of thought and personality, incongruent emotions; such as laughing when hearing bad news, etc."

Alex leaned back into her chair. Dr. Ramonoff continued somberly.

"I need to know when this all started. Can you remember when Robert first started behaving strangely?"

Alex swallowed hard. "Uh... Last week, I guess. He, uh... Broke down. He didn't mean to but, he shot me–"

"He shot you?" Dr. Ramonoff exclaimed, suddenly distressed. "He's violent?"

"No. He, he must have been hallucinating. He tried to shoot the wall, but another officer grabbed him–just to try and calm him down, but he lost his aim... And I was in the way."

"I'm sorry. You must have been frightened."

"I must've...? Doctor, I'm terrified."

"I understand. And I hate to press such a tender wound but this case wouldn't have come on _that_ quickly. Robert would've been acting strangely at least two weeks before he began hallucinating. Try to remember–any thought disorder at all. For example, vague, unspecified speech, repeated and unnecessary references to irrelevant details, or abrupt pauses in the middle of a sentence."

"That describes the Goren I've always known. He's always had those–symptoms–as far as I know."

"Not likely... It's possible that his mannerisms simply prevented his symptoms from being noticed."

"Or maybe he just doesn't have schizophrenia." Alex suggested, her eyes suddenly filling with hope. Dr. Ramonoff sighed.

"Like I said, it's uncertain. Besides the subject of diagnoses, there's treatment. I can't allow Robert to leave without at least a prescription for anti-psychotics; especially after hearing about this shooting."

"I told you, it was an accident!" Alex argued. She couldn't leave Bobby here, she'd promised him ice cream...

"I'm sorry, it isn't safe."

"Fine then, write this prescription and we'll be out of your hair."

"It isn't that simple." Dr Ramonoff insisted with waning patience. "The medication could have many undesirable side-effects, and without a positive diagnoses I just don't feel comfortable–"

"You're toying with me!" Alex shouted suddenly, rising from her chair and glaring down at the doctor, who's calm expression was very quickly getting on her nerves. "You just told me not five minutes ago that you personally believed he had schizophrenia, but now you're saying you don't know–so you can't give him any medicine? What sort of nonsense bullshit is that? If Bobby's sick, give him his medication; if he's not, let me take him home!"

"What is your interest here? Are you family?"

"I'm–" Alex was dumbstruck. "I'm his fiancé." _What?_ Alex mentally slapped herself.

"Really?" Dr. Ramonoff raised his eyebrows.

"Uh-huh." God, if Bobby heard about this he'd never let her live it down. "We've set a date in August and I'd like him to be there. Preferably crazy-free."

"I see. But you must understand... The side effects–"

"Let me take him home. Please."

Dr Ramonoff let his breath out and rose from his desk, offering Alex his hand. "Very well."

This time Alex took the man's hand and shook it vigorously. "Thank you. Oh, thank you so much."

He smiled warmly, hiding his concern. Hesitantly he signed his name on the prescription. "Please, tell me you understand the consequences. I could lose my job."

"I understand. You have my consent, absolutely. Can I see him now?" Alex said in a rush.

"Yes. Please go back to the waiting room, and I'll bring him out."

"Thanks." Alex sighed relieved. He was going to get better. Everything was going to be fine.

* * *

tbc

Not over. Oh, no. More to come. Please review.


	6. Chapter 6

Deviation From the Average

By Javawolf

* * *

Author's Note: Thanks to all my readers for the reviews. I really, really do appreciate it.

* * *

"I used to always get bubble-gum flavor when I was little."

Those were the first words he'd said since Dr. Ramonoff had escorted him out of the psychiatric wing. Bobby had walked slowly beside the doctor with his head bowed and his hands in his pockets, completely oblivious to anything outside his thoughts. Alex had expected as much, she assumed Dr. Ramonoff has broken the news to him, he was soaking it in.

But now, as they stood in line at Baskin Robin's, he seemed to wake up. His head jerked upright and he examined the glass-framed freezers with the same piercing gaze he wore when he and Alex were working on a particularly demanding case. Alex knew the look to mean that there was deep, inexplicable thought going on behind those tired eyes, and she guessed it was about something more complicated than what ice-cream he should choose.

"I liked bubble-gum because even when the ice-cream was gone, you still had something... To remember how good it tasted. Every time, that's what I got." He shuffled closer to the freezers to look more closely at the Moose Tracks ice-cream.

Alex didn't respond and instead stepped forward to the register as the next in line. She thought for a moment, the cashier patiently awaiting her order, and then she smiled and made a small 'ahem' to state that she was ready.

"I'd like one scoop of Heavenly Hash in a waffle cone, and two scoops Bubble Gum in – oh." She paused, looking to Bobby. "What kind of cone did you want?" She asked. He glanced up.

"I don't care. Waffle is fine. But, I don't want Bubble Gum." Alex did a double-take, surprised. "Vanilla." Bobby finished. "Uh, please." He added, blushing at his own rudeness. The cashier smiled and made their cones, wishing them a good day when they paid and walked outside. Alex sat down at one of the outdoor tables, and Bobby followed her lead, running his finger along the side of his softening ice-cream and licking it clean.

"You got vanilla." Alex said softly. Bobby nodded, not looking away from his cone. Alex tried again. "Why didn't you get Bubble Gum? You just told me it was your favorite."

He looked at her and just blinked. "I don't care much for bubble-gum anymore." He said simply. "Vanilla is easier to forget."

Although it's true Robert Goren's thought process and logical reasoning had always been lost on Alex, it still worried her now more than ever. She fished through her purse, retrieving a large, white and yellow bottle. She shook a single pill into her hand and pushed it into Bobby's face.

"Take this." She said in a very motherly tone. As if to add to the moment, Bobby took on the 'hesitant child' role.

"Why?" He asked suspiciously, taking the tablet and rolling it between his thumb and fore-finger. Alex smiled.

"Dr. Ramonoff prescribed them. They'll help."

Bobby shrugged and popped the pill into his mouth. He dry-swallowed it, pulled a face and immediately chased it down with another mouth full of ice-cream.

"We're did you get these?" He asked. Alex licked at her quickly melting cone.

"The pharmacy downstairs from the psych wing." She said. Bobby stared.

"They let you fill out _my_ prescription?" He asked, stunned. Alex blushed.

"There's a story behind all that, but-" Bobby cut her off, grinning.

"This have anything to do with my fiancé?" He asked slyly. Alex scoffed.

"You knew?" She slapped him lightly on his arm and he laughed at her. Alex couldn't help but smile, the sound was so wonderful. After he caught his breath Bobby spoke again.

"They told me when it was time to leave that my fiancé had come to take me home. I think I get it though." Alex blushed even more red and bowed her head to hide. "You don't have to be embarrassed." Bobby smiled to her.

"I was worried and flustered, okay?" She sighed, trying to come up with any excuse to drop the subject. Bobby simply nodded with an understanding look.

"I know." He said softly. After a moment of comfortable silence while both of them fought with their melting cones, Bobby reached an open hand across the table. At first Alex thought he was trying to grab her hand, but he didn't.

"Can I look at the receipt?" He asked, holding his hand out. Alex sat still for a moment, still deep in thought, but when Bobby said 'please' she realized she was expected to actually get the receipt for him. She sorted through her purse and pulled out a thin, crinkled sheet of paper. Bobby took it, and upon first glance, nearly choked on a piece of waffle cone.

"Tell me my insurance can pay for this!" He exclaimed, color quickly fading from his face. Alex took the receipt and turned approximately the same pale color. "I'd rather be crazy and keep my apartment." Bobby finished.

"Once you get your job back, you should have the package back." Alex shrugged. "It'll probably pay for it. If not, it'll at least pay for a lot of it. And it'll be worth it. Insurance won't pay for the blood monitoring, though." She added with a frown.

"Blood monitoring? Why are they...?"

Alex cut him off while he was still trying to find words. "This is the only drug they had with so few side effects." She said. "But the disadvantage is that the most common side effect – I mean, they said it's really rare, like one percent of all patients that take it –"

"Eames." Bobby grunted.

Alex looked up at him and sighed. "The woman at the pharmacy only said that this particular drug has one potentially dangerous side-effect, and that you have to come in for weekly blood monitoring. That's all I know, I didn't prescribe it."

Bobby looked again at the receipt. "Clozaril..." He read before shrugging and smiling. "If it works, and I don't have to pay for it in it's entirety." He chuckled softly. "All medications have side-effects."

Alex smiled weakly. "You're taking it pretty well." She said shortly. Bobby finished up his ice cream cone and glanced at her.

"What? The fact that I'm a loon?" He tried to laugh, but failed, and instead bowed his head with a murmur of something Alex couldn't hear. "I had time to think about it." He said after a moment. "Lots of time. That hour that I was in there was the longest hour I've ever lived, but it was enlightening."

"What did they do to you?" A sudden, horrifying thought came to Alex and she gasped, causing poor Bobby to start.

"What?" He said, looking around frantically. "What?"

"They didn't _electrocute you_, did they? Because I saw the movie." She peered up at her partner pleadingly, and to her surprise, he started laughing. Softly at first, but then louder and less breathy, until he was clutching his middle as though his insides threatened to fall out.

"No," He managed through the gasps for breath. "Electroconvulsive Therapy. They don't do that anymore." He giggled. Alex breathed a sigh of relief.

"They don't?" She wanted to make sure. She'd cried when she saw that movie, and she couldn't bare the thought of Bobby being strapped down and forced to endure that.

"Well, not very often. They have anti-psychotics now. They don't have to fry their patients anymore." He shook his head at her. "You thought...?"

"Wouldn't you? I was worried." Bobby merely stared at her affectionately. Alex sighed and rose from the table. "Ready to go?"

"Go where?" He asked, giving his partner a quizzical look.

"Well," Alex pondered. "My place isn't really big enough for entertaining and I've needed to go shopping for almost a week now–I have no food at all. I think your place would be better suitedfor this situation." She smiled. "I just bought you ice-cream, you can show me a little hospitality."

Bobby seemed reluctant. "I don't know, Alex. Maybe I should just go home... alone." He stared pleadingly at her, and Alex sighed.

"Bobby... There's no one to take care of you." The cold truth stung him like a knife wound and it showed. Alex quickly attempted to take back what she'd said, but it was too late.

"What I mean is – you can't be left alone and – "

"I'm aware of that, Eames. Thank you." Bobby said in a low, flat voice. Alex cringed. "I'm a nutter, God only knows what I might do if I'm allowed any privacy." His voice was raised just enough to attract attention from pedestrians. He caught their gazes and shouted at them to 'mind their own damn business!' It was only a moment later that Bobby stood slowly from the table and glanced apologetically at Alex.

"Eames, I–I'm sorry. Agitation, it's... a side effect."

Alex raised an eyebrow. "That some fast working medicine." She said in her usual sarcastic tone of voice. Bobby shifted uncomfortably.

"Well, that's the idea." He said softly. "I am sorry. My apartment is fine, we can go now."

* * *

A/N: More soon, I promise. This is only the beginning.


	7. Chapter 7

Deviation from the Average

By Javawolf

* * *

Author's Note: .:ahem:. You won't believe what I've done now. Dimwit, here, has started _another_ story. That's five, now – at once – for those of you watching the home game. And yet, loyal angel that I am, I still managed to get this up. (Wah-hoo!) As it is, I think we're okay and I should still be updating regularly. However if, and only _if_ I disappear mysteriously, you deserve to know that in all likely hood, I haven't died. Just in case.

Please review. Reviews feed the muse. .:grin:.

* * *

"You fired him?" Grim asked eagerly later that evening, inside Deakins' office. "He's gone?"

Deakins shook his head. "Oh no. I just threatened to fire him. Well, technically I told him he _was_ fired, but just a little white lie." He shrugged. "I knew he'd do it, so why bother with all that extra paperwork? Empty threat, really."

Grim sunk back into his seat. "So, what happens to me when he's reinstated?"

"We'll get you a new partner, or you can apply for a transfer."

Deakins was only still sitting here because Eames had called the office an hour ago, saying she was on her way. He expected a report, and he wanted it now. She was late – and Grim was breathing down his neck about what was going on with Goren.

He rubbed his knuckles into his temples, and still Grim didn't take the hint. "Look, Grim. Maybe it's time you went home, I'm not giving you overtime here."

"I'm waiting for Eames." The man before him stated simply, as though loitering in your boss' office was perfectly reasonable.

"Well, you can wait someplace else." Deakins said forcefully. Grim narrowed his eyes slightly, but obeyed with some disinclination.

"Yes, sir." He said with a plastered grin. No respect. You know, if he were freaking dying chances were no one would look his way. Grim lived in the shadow of _The_ Detective Robert Goren, resident loon. If anything were more insulting, he'd eat his very expensive shoes. "I'll just be waiting in the hall then, would you tell her that?"

Deakins sighed audibly. "Yes." The tone was one of ebbing patience. "Goodnight."

Grim merely nodded and exited the office, shutting the door softly behind him and making his way down the hall to the break room. Maybe there was still some coffee, or something... Though he could really go for something stronger. Much stronger.

* * *

A rap on the door. "Captain?"

"Eames." Deakins said, surprised. "Let me call you back." He spoke softly into the telephone before setting it gently back down onto the receiver. Then he faced the exhausted looking woman who limped towards him with a tired smile.

"Hey, how are things on this end?" She sighed, throwing herself in a chair. Deakins waved a disregarding hand in the air.

"Same old, Grim's looking for you."

"Peachy..." Alex grumbled before gazing up at her captain with a look of accomplishment. "He's going to be fine." She said, with relief in her voice. Deakins sank softly back into his chair, only now realizing he'd been rising out of it with the anxiety.

"He's sick?" He asked quietly. Alex shrugged.

"They don't really know, but the doctor said his symptoms are similar to those of schizophrenia. He gave Bobby medicine for the symptoms we know about."

"Can they do that?" Deakins asked incredulously, his brow furrowed.

Alex smiled slightly, bowing her head shamefully. "I sort of got in his face about it."

"Ah." Deakins nodded with sudden understanding. No one says no to Alex Eames. "How is he doing?"

"He seems fine. I took him to his apartment and he fed me dinner." She added with a smile. Deakins raised an eyebrow.

"Dinner, huh?"

"Oh stop." Alex scoffed. "It was just polite, after all I bought him ice cream."

"I see. So he's okay then?"

"He was just reading when I left. The medicine he's taking is going to keep him up nights until he gets used to it, but he doesn't mind. You know Bobby, a good collection of books and he's all set for a lifetime."

Deakins nodded with a smile. "I'm very relieved to hear that."

Alex smiled in return and stood slowly. "Well, I guess I'll be going."

"Oh no you don't." Deakins scolded. "Grim."

"Do I _have_ to?" Alex whined, her fingers gripping the doorknob.

"Yes, I want him to leave. I'd like to go home."

Alex let her breath out in a rush. "Fine..." She grumbled. "Goodnight, captain."

"Uh-huh. 'Night." Came to rushed reply before the door closed shut. Alex walked stiffly down the hall.

* * *

"Hello? Grim?"

He popped his head out of the break room, scaring the socks off of poor Alex, who clutched her heart in surprise. Grim still held a doughnut in his mouth, but removed it when he saw who had been calling him.

"Oh, sorry..."

"You trying to give me a heart attack?" Alex accused. Grim bowed his head.

"Er... no." His said rather sheepishly.

"What do you want, then?" She replied sharply, placing his hands firmly on her hips. Grim smiled a little, and then broke into a wide grin.

"Well, I know it's a little late tonight, but maybe sometime you'd let me take you out to dinner." Grim's eyes twinkled. "If you want." He added with an even wider smile.

Alex stared absently at him. "What?"

"Or, you know it's not too late for drinks. Drinks are good if that's what you like."

Oh, she could use a drink. But, it wasn't right. She couldn't stand Grim, ... right?

"But, I really shouldn't, I mean – Bobby –"

"Still hasn't even figured out you're a girl, Alex." Grim said, almost apologetically.

He called her Alex. Bobby hardly ever did that. Should she call him Leon? No, she wasn't going, she couldn't go – Bobby needed her right now.

_Just decline politely, you can always sleep on it._ "Did you have anything in mind?" _Damn it._

"No, not so much. What do you like?" Grim was beaming now, he'd known she would say yes. No one said no to his charm.

Alex laughed, blushing. "I honestly can't believe I'm even considering this," She said, Grim only shrugged in response. "Um... Well, I've always liked Italian – or even Thai. Oh, but you're thinking drinks, aren't you?"

Grim simply nodded and smiled. "It's okay. Just let me know when you're free, alright? Well have dinner."

And with that, he gave her one last flashy smile and sauntered down the hall, leaving Alex to mentally pummel herself.

She'd said yes? She'd actually said yes to that creep? And she was smiling – why?

She sighed. A problem to ponder another day. Right now, she needed sleep.


End file.
